One of my favorite poems was published by Poetry Scotland recently – favorite in a nostalgic sense; I wrote it a little over a year ago, and it’s pretty much the first in the New Series as far as my poetry goes.

Unfortunately, one of the lines was eaten, and I’m not going to ask anyone whether that improves the poem. But I’ll reprint it below, in its entirety.

In the meantime, brrr. Edinburgh is in the Grip Of Wintry Weather. (Having grown up beside Lake Michigan, with its -20 degree wind chill, I am refusing to say ‘Arctic’ on a point of principle.) But it’s still cold, especially as my place doesn’t have central heating. Thundercat is suddenly a lap cat, as my new guy has discovered. (New Guy also just taught me about the <pre> tag., which keeps all the spacing neat though puts it in a fixed-width font, hence the Courier-esque appearance.)

Shakespeare and Company

Shivering from cracked speech and silent gates and you
silver-haired against the chilly Seine
I merge arrondissements within the shelves,
fusing the rooms of literary gods
to create a new salon --
never-ending
wit and wine and shouts and words and words
enough to embrace us both, even us,
two literate expats blown too far from home
each seeking warmth in separate bookshop aisles.